


Christmas Miracle

by MissScorp



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Christmas in Gotham, Drama, Found Family, Gen, Gotham-verse, Origin of Dick Grayson, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28303842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/pseuds/MissScorp
Summary: The call came over the radio a little past seven. Two bodies in an alley downtown. Jim Gordon didn’t know what alley it was until he pulled up at the scene ten minutes after telling dispatch he’d respond. Immediately, he thought of a June night and two other bodies. And the boy who witnessed the whole thing.Post-Season 5, gives the Gotham treatment of reimagining origins to the Graysons.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Christmas Miracle

The call came over the radio a little past seven. Two bodies in an alley. Jim Gordon didn’t know what alley it was until he pulled up at the scene ten minutes after telling dispatch he’d respond. A familiar stirring of guilt, regret, and sorrow sloshed around in his belly the second he recognized where he was.

Images from the past superseded themselves over the present. Another night and two other people — victims, he’d later learn, of a contrived plot between corporate bigwigs who didn’t want their illegal activities revealed to the world, a doctor performing illicit and inhuman experiments, and a Court that considered themselves the voice of Gotham — lay dead in an alley, their twelve year old son the only witness to their gruesome deaths.

Had it really been sixteen years since Bruce’s parents were murdered? It didn’t seem possible. So much had happened since his first night on the job. Many things had changed in the course of that decade and a half. He wasn’t the same man he was after his tour ended and Gotham sure as hell wasn’t the same city he had come back too. _It’s shaped me as much as I have tried to shape it._

Try being the key word.

Gotham, Jim quickly discovered wasn’t like Chicago, New York, Los Angeles. Hell, it wasn’t like any of the places he had visited while in the service. After No Man’s Land, the media started calling Gotham the city of the depraved, the indifferent, and the criminally insane. He couldn’t deny plenty of the above roamed the streets in wild abandon.

Nobody who lived in Gotham denied what the city was: a morally corrupt, violent, and volatile battlefield. He tried to stop the corruption when he first arrived but ended up becoming one of the corrupted, instead. He responded to the city’s violence with violence. Led an army of cops and questionable individuals armed with enough firepower to level the city against those who wanted to claim Gotham for themselves. _I’ve worked with Penguin almost as much as I’ve fought to stop him._

He’d done it mostly because he hadn’t any other option and didn’t want to see Gotham end up in the hands of the Court, the League or the likes of the Valeskas.

 _Can’t sit here reminiscing all night about things best left in the past_ , he realized as a helicopter circled overhead. No, he needed to focus on the here and now. _And that’s finding out who the two dead people are._ He blew out a breath as he stepped from his car into the cold night air.

Beat cops and medical personnel busily worked the scene. Black-and-whites, emergency medical service vehicles, and a Gotham TV news truck formed a half circle around the entrance to the alley. A young woman chatted with a cameraman as she prepared to do a live report. She stopped when she saw Gordon making his way towards the scene.

“Commissioner Gordon!” She strode towards him, microphone in hand, and a look of intent in her dark eyes. “Can I have a word with you?”

“No.”

Indignation tightened her face. “The people of Gotham deserve to know what’s happened here!”

“And they will.” Jim ducked under the caution tape. “Once we have information to share.”

“But...”

Gordon signaled to an officer standing by a black-and-white.

“Make sure she remains behind police lines.”

“Yes, sir.”

He turned to walk over to where his longtime partner and friend, Harvey Bullock, stared down at two covered figures. Again images from the past superseded themselves over the present. A mild June night, two bodies covered by bloodstained sheets, red-and-blue lights casting eerie shadows around them. He shook off his memories as he stopped next to Harvey.

“What’ve we got?”

“Mary and John Grayson.” Bullock pushed his much loved fedora back to look at him. “Each shot once through the head.”

“Anybody see who shot them?”

“Mr. and Mrs. Chaucer.” Harvey pointed to where an elderly couple were talking with two uniformed officers. “Said a couple of Street Kids came running outta the alley after they heard the shots.”

“Street Kids.” Jim frowned. “That won’t help with narrowing down suspects.”

“Oh, it gets even better, partner.”

Jim wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. “Yeah?” He slowly turned to face his grim partner. “And how’s that?”

“Their little boy, Dick, saw the whole thing.”

“They had a little boy?” Jim’s heart dropped into his stomach. “Where is he?”

Harvey nodded his head. “Sitting over there on the fire escape with our other witness.”

“Other witness?” Jim slowly turned to the fire escape. “What other witness?”

“Raya Lloyd.”

That feeling of déjà vu he had after discovering what alley the bodies were in grew exponentially as he stared at the children seated on that bottom stair. Again Jim saw another night and another child seated in their place. Only, there was one major difference between these dark-haired children and Bruce Wayne.

“Jesus, Harv,” he breathed out on a strangled breath, “they can’t be more than six or seven.”

“Right-o-Mundo, buddy boy.”

“What were they doing in the alley?” Jim stared down to the opposite end of the alley through slightly narrowed eyes. “Where were they coming from?”

“Looks like the Graysons took the kiddos to see _The Nutcracker_.” Harvey held up a bloody ticket stub in a plastic baggie. “They were cutting through the alley when they got attacked.”

Just like the Wayne’s were the night they were murdered.

Only, it wasn’t to the ballet they took their twelve year old son.

It was a popular musical that was all the rage in Gotham at the time.

“Do we know if there’s someone who can come and get them?”

 _Please_ , he begged as snow started to fall in soft flurries. _Let there be an Alfred who can come and get them._

Who can comfort them and help them process this unspeakable act of cruelty.

“Not a clue.” Harvey hunched his shoulders against the bitter wind that cropped up. “Neither one is exactly talking at the moment.”

It didn’t require much thinking on Jim’s part to figure out why the two weren’t talking. Their age, communication skills, and the trauma they just endured all played a factor in their silence.

Same as it had Bruce’s.

Both would be labeled as unreliable witnesses for those exact reasons. Not that Jim was worried about putting either child on the stand. They hadn’t even found the ones responsible for the murder of the Graysons. _And that will be near impossible given the number of Street Kids in Gotham._

Not that he and Harvey wouldn’t try to find the ones who did this.

A cold wind snuck beneath Jim’s collar and chilled him. The temperature was starting to drop and fast. _We need to get these kids somewhere safe and warm._ Realistically, there was only one place he could think of that was both.

“I’m going to take them back to the precinct.”

“Want me to put a call into GCPS?” Harvey moved so the medical examiner could begin prepping the bodies for transport to the morgue. “Have ‘em meet you there?”

“Hold off on calling GCPS for now,” Jim told him. “I want to see if I can find someone who will take them until we get things sorted out.”

“You’re not thinking about asking Lee?”

“No, Alfred, actually.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Harvey spluttered. “You can’t ask Alfred Pennyworth to foster these kids.”

“Why not?” Jim asked, curious. “Alfred’s been through this before with Bruce. He’ll know what to watch out for, expect.”

“Yeah, but he was already Wayne’s butler.” Harvey jerked a thumb at the kids. “They’re strangers. Big difference.”

“They need to be with people who will care for them and treat them kindly.” Jim glanced at the little boy and girl sitting alone. “Do you think either is going to get that in an overcrowded group home?”

“No.” Harvey ran a hand over his face. “What if Alfred don’t agree? Huh? You considered that?”

Jim had thought about it. The second the idea came to him he deliberated over what he’d do if Alfred turned him down.

All he could do was hope beyond anything that he would not say no.

Jim walked towards the shivering children. The boy — _Dick_ , he corrected —instantly curled an arm around the girl, his eyes flashing a warning despite the grief and fear bright in the brown eyes that locked with his. There was a spark of that humor and kindness Jim recalled John Grayson possessing under the darker emotions churning inside Dick at that moment. There was also a hint of what he’d become once he did some growing and maturing. _He might not look imposing now_ , he thought as he crouched in front of them, _but he will be a force to reckon with when he’s older_.

Like Bruce, he realized as a spotlight briefly illuminated the alley. There were more than circumstantial similarities between he and the boy who became Gotham’s silent guardian. They shared physical characteristics, as well. Dick’s nose was small and straight, his face a bit thin, his brow concealed by a shock of hair as black as the sky above. His eyes were deep-set beneath arched brows and framed by a set of thick lashes.

 _They could be James Jr. and Barbara Lee_ , Jim realized, gut twisting. The bodies being loaded into the coroner’s van could be him, Lee or Barbara. Harvey could be standing here and trying to figure out what to do with his children, where would be safe, and who could best help them deal with their loss.

"I know things are difficult," he said softly. "And you aren't feeling like talking at the moment. I need to ask you a few questions about what happened, though. It's the only way we'll find the ones who did this."

"Wh-why'd they do it?" Dick let out a shuddering breath that fogged the air. "Why?"

Jim heaved a world-weary sigh. "I don’t know why they did it, son.” _That wasn’t true_ , he realized. He did know why. "It's this city. There's something wrong with it."

There had been something wrong with it when he was a boy but he hadn’t seen it, protected as he was by his parents. Something these two didn’t have the luxury of now.

“What’s gonna happen to us?” Raya asked, drawing Jim’s attention. “Are we gonna have to go to the orphanage?”

She was a pretty thing, he decided. Slender and small-framed, and small of feature as well. Save for the vivid green eyes that met his. They were long and dominant in that pixie face.

“It’s gonna be okay.” The lie tasted foul. How could things be okay? They were alone. Two children against a city that wouldn’t think twice about stealing what little innocence they still possessed. “We’re gonna find who hurt your mom and dad.”

Dick remained silent. The wary look on his face spoke volumes. Circus folk didn’t trust outsiders. They didn’t have much reason too.

“Promise?” Raya blinked those huge green eyes up at him. “You’ll find who hurt Aunt Mary and Uncle John?”

 _So, they’re cousins, and not brother and sister_ , Jim thought, heart twisting into a painful knot.

Not that it mattered.

They were all the other had at that moment.

“I promise.” It was a promise Jim aimed to keep. “C’mon. We’ll stop for hot chocolate and doughnuts before heading to the GCPD.”

“Jim... no...” Harvey said as the kids got up to follow Jim to his unmarked car. “You can’t let yourself get involved like this.”

Jim Gordon was, though.

How couldn’t he be?

Dick Grayson and Raya Lloyd needed a parent to keep the monsters in the dark away.

Especially since those monsters decided to take the only parental figures they had from them.

Two days before Christmas.

...

Gotham City Police headquarters was busy despite the late hour. Officers milled the bullpen as Jim walked to where Alfred Pennyworth stood in the center of the cavernous room. The concrete walls cast long shadows in every nook and cranny despite the high, arching windows and hanging lights. The old-fashioned metal desks, piled high as always with paperwork and case folders, seemed grossly out of place.

Remodeling the precinct had been deemed unnecessary the last time he brought it up. A waste of funds according to those downtown. Police efficiency wasn’t based on the aesthetic of the station house. Of course, allocating funding for things like newer computers were also not seen as essential.

“Alfred,” Jim greeted the man with a handshake and warm smile. “Glad you could come down.” He blew out a breath. “Even though I wish it was under better circumstances.”

Alfred’s gaze shifted to the children sitting quietly on a bench outside Jim’s office. Raya’s head was pillowed on Dick’s shoulder. His cheek rest against her crown. Neither had spoken a word since the few brief sentences they uttered at the scene.

“Poor little sprogs.” Alfred’s expression shifted between sympathetic understanding and deep sorrow. “It was the same alley where...?” he didn’t finish that sentence. He didn’t need too. Jim knew what he was asking.

“Yes, it was.”

Alfred’s sigh was as heavy as Jim’s heart. “And they have no family who can take them in?”

“I spoke with the Ringmaster of Haly’s Circus right after I got off the phone with you.” It wasn’t a conversation Jim especially relished. The man hadn’t forgotten being arrested as one of a handful of suspects in the murder of Lila Valeska. It wasn’t until he told him the Graysons had been murdered the man offered Jim any information. “Seems Mary Grayson became her niece’s guardian after Owen Lloyd and his wife died from hemorrhagic fever last year. He had no idea where Alphonse Grayson might be or how to reach him.”

“Will the circus take the tykes?”

“Not until we can prove the Graysons were murdered by Street Kids and not someone targeting circus folk.”

“Meaning they’re good as orphans.”

“Yes.” Dick’s dark eyes momentarily met his in silent question. “I’m hoping to find Alphonse. He’s their closest relative.”

“And if you don’t?” Alfred pressed. “What then?”

“They’ll go into foster care.” Something Jim hoped like anything to avoid. Especially given the number of children already in the system. “If a foster home cannot be found they will likely be sent to the Gotham Home for Wayward and Forgotten Children.”

He didn’t point out they’d end up singled out by the other children, as well as abused by the staff and so-called care providers. Alfred, despite working for the Wayne’s for over three decades, understood Gotham’s seedy underbelly better than Jim did.

The man once told him he had a “bit” of Scotland Yard detective work on his resume. Jim believed the man exaggerated his experience and skill. Alfred Pennyworth was not just the "butler" for the most affluent man in Gotham. Jim just couldn’t define what all the man was.

“They’ll end up Street Kids before New Years,” Alfred said. “By Christmas, most likely.”

“That’s why I called you.”

“Is it now?” Alfred’s tone was nonchalant but Jim detected a hint of mirth underscoring the words. “And what exactly do you think I can do?”

Jim shifted to face him. “I’m hoping you’ll foster them while I try to find their uncle.”

One eyebrow arched, Alfred’s only outward reaction to his request. “Doesn’t one require a special license to foster a child?”

“I can push GCPS to grant emergency custodianship based on the extenuating circumstances.” Alfred’s expression remained carefully, neutral blank. “They need a place that is safe, Alfred. Somewhere they can grieve and process what happened. They won’t get that in the foster system.”

“No, they will not, will they?” Alfred frowned. “Why ask me and not Master Bruce to foster the sprogs, though?”

“I considered calling and asking Bruce if he’d be willing to take the two while I investigate,” Jim admitted as uniformed officers towed snow and three of Penguin’s goons through the front entrance. “But I wasn’t sure if he had returned yet from his impromptu trip to Courchevel with the Gotham opera’s new prima donna.”

A move which shocked and dismayed much of Gotham high society. Bruce had pulled many outrageous stunts since returning for the opening of the new Wayne Towers a few months ago. Buying out a restaurant so he could swim in the fountain with the actress accompanying him that evening, going with the Gotham Symphony as they toured Europe, taking the entire ballet troop on a cruise aboard his private yacht, and hosting lavish parties for Gotham’s elite in his penthouse became regular front page news.

All a cover.

A way of keeping the people of Gotham from figuring out who their prodigal son was. Knowing Bruce Wayne served Gotham as its silent guardian, her dark knight was not something Jim planned on sharing with anyone. His being aware of Batman’s identity was wrapped up in the importance of the fact. Far as he was concerned, Gotham needed Batman. _Long as he doesn’t step over the line, I will continue to turn a blind-eye to his activities._

A commotion erupted near the holding cells, momentarily distracting Jim and Alfred. They watched as officers rushed to subdue a dark-haired boy. Other than the green scales covering much of his body, and his slightly amphibious features, nothing physically about Waylon Jones different from other boys his age. His lengthy rap sheet and propensity for violence were what routinely landed Waylon in a jail cell. Jim tried to help the boy by enrolling him in a program for youthful offenders over the summer. The boy lasted one day. Was back in a holding cell that same evening. He was about to go help when the officers got him into a cell. Not before Waylon took a bite out of a rookie — _Doyle_ , Jim recalled the young officers name being.

“Master Bruce arrived home yesterday morning from his ski trip,” Alfred said once things settled down. “He attended _The Nutcracker_ this evening with Miss Kyle, in fact.”

Another connection between Bruce and the children huddled together.

“That’s where the Graysons took the kids tonight.” If Jim believed in things like destiny, he’d start to think this night had been fated. That was ridiculous, of course. Nobody could have predicted this would happen. “They were cutting through the alley when they were attacked.”

The significance of which was not lost on the man standing beside him. Something Jim had counted on when he asked him to come down to the GCPD.

“Right.” Alfred straightened his coat before starting across the bullpen. “Well, let’s get to it then. It’s past time those two should be in bed.”

Were Jim to also believe in things like Christmas miracles... he’d consider this one.

That was ridiculous, of course.

This wasn’t a miracle.

It was Gotham.

...

The case hit a dead-end before he and Harvey got a chance to even get started. The description of the two seen fleeing the alley after the shots were fired didn’t match any of the Street Kids they rounded up on a regular basis. Having the Chaucer’s pour through the suspect books turned out futile, as well. The bandanas the pair wore concealed most of the lower half of their faces, making a composite sketch of the pair equally as useless.

A break came early that afternoon when Eric Needham, a kid Jim also tried to help by sending him to the same summer camp as Waylon Jones got hauled in for snatching purses suggested the two weren’t Street Kids but, “ _Masqueradin’ as Street Kids_.” When Jim pressed why he thought they weren’t Street Kids, he said, “ _Cause Street Kids would’ve taken their money and jewelry_.” Eric’s lips screwed up into a cocky smirk. “ _If’n I was you, I’d check out ole Haly. Word on the streets is he’s pissed off some people by refusing to give ‘em what they want_.”

“ _And what’s that_?” Jim questioned.

“ _Money_.” Eric shrugged. “ _Why else_?”

Acting on Eric’s suggestion, Jim took the drawings the sketch artist did based on the description they got from the Chaucer’s to where Haly’s Circus made camp for the winter.

Only, the troop pulled up stakes sometime during the night, taking everything, even the caravan that belonged to the Graysons.

“Really should have anticipated these freaks would vanish at the whiff of trouble,” Harvey muttered as they stared at the deserted encampment. “It’s what they do.”

“They’re scared, Harvey.” Jim’s fingers clenched the steering wheel hard enough his knuckles bled white. “They have a right to be if what Eric suggested about C.C. Haly having pissed someone off over money is true.”

“Money is the most powerful motivator for murder.”

A fact Jim couldn’t deny as a gust of window stirred flyers and other debris left on the ground. Money led to all sorts of problems. Especially in a place like Gotham where greed was the dominant sin.

“We need to track down where the troop has gone,” he said. “Whoever killed the Graysons won’t stop until they get what they want.”

“You honestly think we’re going to find these whack-a-doodles?” Harvey scoffed. “They’re halfway to California at this point.”

“We don’t have any choice, Harv.” Jim put the car in reverse. “They know something about what happened to the Graysons. We need to find out what that something is.”

 _And who it is_ , he added silently.

“You expect they’ll talk, buddy boy. Newsflash, they ain’t.”

“We have to try.”

He made a promise to Dick and Raya to find who murdered John and Mary Grayson.

Same as he promised Bruce Wayne he’d find the man who killed Thomas and Martha Wayne.

 _That’s it_ , he realized as he started back to the GCPD. _That’s who I can ask to investigate this._

Batman could do what he couldn’t as police commissioner. Go into places he wasn’t allowed. Ask the questions he was prevented from asking. Investigate the cases those downtown would kick back for one reason or another.

 _He can figure out what happened to John and Mary Grayson_ , Jim decided as he pulled up outside police headquarters. _Same as he found out who was behind the contract taken out on his parents._

Part of Jim found it strange he was turning to a billionaire in a cape and cowl for help in solving this case.

The other part?

Didn’t care.

This was Gotham, after all.

A city unlike any other.

The élite class of villains who dwelled in Gotham made _chaos_ and _anarchy_ their _crime du jour_.

Every day-week-month encased the citizens of this city in a fresh batch of horror.

Every second-minute-hour was a new sort of nightmare for them to deal with.

Even the naïvest of Gothamites knew; understood there were those not looking for logical things like money, power or control. They were aware of those who could not be bought, beaten into submission or reasoned and negotiated with.

Then there was Jeremiah Valeska.

A man who wanted to destroy the city of Gotham and rebuild it in his demented image.

Some called him a deranged psychopath. Others labeled him a malignant sociopath. Jim believed Jeremiah Valeska possessed a form of hyper-sanity. There was no other way to define his methodology. Everything the man did was calculated and precise.

Especially when it came to creating chaos.

A hint of Valeska’s high-pitched cackle echoed on the breeze as Jim stepped from his car. A vivid reminder about how the city had a monster the other degenerates and criminally insane feared.

Who remained dangerous despite being locked away in a cell in Arkham and comatose.

Jeremiah Valeska was why he chose to trust a man in a mask.

Batman helped save his daughter, Barbara Lee, from the madman.

He’d help get justice for two children orphaned by another.

...

Jim found himself indecisive as he paced the roof of police headquarters a short while later. It wasn’t that he second-guessed his decision to ask Batman for his help.

Far from it, in fact.

Batman remained his best option for solving this case.

That didn’t mean he didn’t have reservations about asking for his help. Jim was well aware that many, especially in the mayor’s office considered Batman a menace instead of a help. Even Harvey tended to view Batman as less a benefit to the city and more a hindrance.

“ _Solving murders is our job_ ,” was his comment after Jim revealed his plan to enlist the Caped Crusader’s aide. “ _We’re the police.”_

“ _And he can do what we can’t_ ,” had been Jim’s firm reply. “ _He can go after the circus troop while we investigate Haly’s recent financial transactions for any clue as to who he was in business with_.”

Another dead-end.

With the exception of a loan to finance repairs before the start of the next season, there was nothing off about Haly’s finances. His main investors were Triple M Productions and Ring Brothers Incorporated. Neither one associated with anyone connected to a criminal empire.

Jim had no choice. He needed Batman’s help. Utilizing that spotlight to call him to police headquarters, though, created the impression the Dark Knight was an acting agent of the GCPD. While it was, to an extent, true, the Caped Crusader tended to act independently of the police. _Which is exactly what I need_. His resolve firm, Jim walked over and flipped on the spotlight. A beam instantly shot upwards, smacking the night out of the way so it could stamp a bat-shaped symbol on the velvet sky.

It took twenty minutes before he realized he was no longer on the roof alone. Jim slowly turned towards the cowled man regarding him impassively.

"So..." he said slowly. "You decided to come. I wasn’t sure you would."

"Why have you called me?" Batman’s voice was low, dark, and menacing, like the purr of a jungle cat right before it attacked. “What do you need?”

"I need your help." Jim offered him the folder he brought with him. “Solving this.”

Batman took the folder and opened it without a word. His eyes — _the same shade of green as Raya’s,_ Jim realized with a start — burned as they lifted to his.

"You want my help with finding those who murdered the Graysons? Why?”

“Because our investigation hit a dead-end before it even got underway.” Quickly, he explained Eric’s suggestion about looking into the circus. “They know something about what happened and are too terrified to say what.”

“They know who Haly was dealing with.”

Jim nodded. He had indicated the same thing to Harvey during their conversation earlier. “You can track the troop down.” He turned towards that spotlight. “Ask them what they know. Investigate things in a way I can’t. That the law doesn’t allow. You’re free to do what’s necessary to see two kids get justice.”

 _There_ , he thought as the wind picked up. _I said it._

Now it was up to Batman to decide whether he was going to help or not. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long for an answer.

"I’ll contact you if I find out anything."

He was gone before Jim turned around.

...

He was studying the artist rendering of the two suspects at his desk when Harvey rapped on the open door and poked his head in.

"Hey, Jimbo," he said gruffly. "Got something outside you’re gonna wanna come see for yourself."

Jim frowned, not pleased with the interruption, but got up to follow him outside. He pushed through the throng of police officers to the front steps of police headquarters and stopped short when he spied the figures with their arms, legs, hands, ankles, bound in festive red and green ribbon and thick tape.

Pinned to the chest of the lighter haired man was a notecard with two words on it:

_Merry Christmas_

The next forty-five minutes were busy ones. First, they had to unwrap the pair and have them examined by a physician. Then they were fed and given a chance to clean themselves up. Jim finally ran their prints after the two were placed in separate interrogation rooms. The ancient computer spit back the names of Alberto and Alphonso Marcetti after five minutes of deliberation.

“They work for one of Maroni’s old cronies.” Harvey frowned as he stared at the screen. “Zucco is his name. Antonio Zucco.”

Interrogating Alberto, the relatively smarter of the two, confirmed who their employer was.

“Why did Zucco have you kill the Graysons?” Jim demanded. “What was the reason?”

“Teachin’ ole Haly a lesson in refusin’ to pay up when he’s told.”

“Extortion?” It took every ounce of Jim’s willpower to not reach across the table and wipe the smirk off his face. “He had the Graysons killed because Haly refused to pay him what he demanded?”

“Nobody tells Fats no.”

Jim looked at Harvey as he got to his feet. “Let’s go.”

They left the room, leaving Alberto with a young detective to watch over him.

“Where does this Zucco do business?” Jim asked once they were outside.

“Whoa there, buddy boy, slow down,” Harvey said. “We can’t go in there guns blazin’.”

Jim grabbed his coat and shrugged it on. “He ordered those animals to kill the Graysons.”

“Yeah, I know he did.” Harvey plopped his fedora on his head. “Doesn’t mean we can go burstin’ into his club.”

Not that they needed to worry about bursting into the club Antonio Zucco operated from.

Zucco was delivered to them.

In a big silver box replete with a festive red bow.

A bat on the card was Jim’s only clue as to who the giver of this particular present was.

...

Jim pulled up at Wayne Manor a little after ten the next morning. He had considered waiting until after Christmas to tell Dick and Raya that the ones responsible for the murder of their folks were behind bars but Lee encouraged him to make the drive out to the stately manor.

“ _Knowing those who hurt their parents are behind bars will bring them some much needed comfort.”_

 _“It’s Christmas, Lee._ ”

Her lips twitched and her eyes twinkled merrily. “ _Glad to know you’re aware of what day this is._ ”

Jim frowned at her. “ _I know I’ve been a bit preoccupied the last few days...”_

_“A bit?”_

_“Okay, more than a bit_ ,” Jim corrected with a grimace. “ _I promised I’d find those responsible_.”

“ _And you did_.” Lee handed him a gift bag with a smiling Santa placing goodies in a stocking hung from a mantle.“ _You and Batman have given them the Christmas present they wanted most: justice.”_

 _“We haven’t gotten them justice_ ,” he pointed out as he set the bag in the trunk. “ _Not yet.”_

 _“You have those responsible behind bars.”_ Lee handed him another bag. This one featuring Santa flying his sleigh. “ _That’s a start.”_

 _“What is all this?”_ Jim asked as he set the bag beside the first.

“ _Just some things for the children_ ,” she replied with a shrug. “ _I’m sure Alfred has gotten them all the clothes they need. I thought it might be nice still to surprise them with a couple of presents.”_

“ _I don’t think they’re going to want to celebrate Christmas. Not after what happened to their folks.”_

 _“Maybe not_.” Lee set a plastic container of cookies she and James Jr. baked the previous night beside the gift bags. “ _They’re still kids, though. And kids,_ ” she said with a gentle smile, “ _love presents_.”

Jim couldn’t disagree with her. Kids were resilient. Hadn’t Bruce taught him that? He retrieved the items from the trunk after exiting the car and made his way up the graveled walk. Wayne Manor looked exactly as he remembered. _Alfred maintained the house and property while Bruce was away_ , he mused as he rang the buzzer.

Where exactly he had gone in those ten years, Jim didn’t know. The nineteen year old boy lacking seasoned and training returned as a twenty-nine year old man fully equipped to take on the mantle he chose. _Without him, I’d never have found out who killed John and Mary Grayson or why._

They also wouldn’t be sitting in a cell at Blackgate, awaiting trial. Batman proved himself a necessary ally by removing a crime boss from the streets without any lives lost. _That’s a win in my books_ , he decided as the door opened. Jim found himself face-to-face with the man he had been thinking about seconds before.

“Bruce.” Jim wasn’t quite able to mask his surprise at finding the billionaire answering his own door. “Where’s Alfred?”

“Helping Dick and Raya select a book from the library to read.” The hint of a smile softened Bruce’s lips. “Seems there was a bit of an argument over reading _A Christmas Carol_ or _Through The Looking Glass_.”

“They’re settling in well then?”

“They’re much livelier than I was at their age.” A hint of mirth twinkled in his eyes. “So, I’m told, anyway.” Bruce stepped back to let Jim in. “That’s not why you’re here, though, is it?”

“No,” Jim admitted as he stepped inside. “Lee bought some presents for Dick and Raya.”

“That was kind of her.” Bruce closed the door before leading Jim across the foyer into the living room. “How’s her clinic doing?”

“It’s doing well.” Jim took a seat in the chair Bruce waved him towards. “She’s considering expanding the clinic to other areas to better serve the people of Gotham.”

“Tell her if she needs funding or equipment to contact Lucius.”

“Losing him hurt but I’m glad it was to you and not LexCorp.”

“My father would have promoted Lucius to CEO one day.” Bruce took a seat on the couch. “He trusted him. With good reason.”

Jim did, as well. Lucius, like the man sitting across from him, helped the city survive some of its darkest, coldest days. They wouldn’t have made it out of No Man’s Land without Lucius Fox. “He’s implemented a number of the improvements you’ve suggested.”

“There is more I plan to do now that I am back,” Bruce confided as laughter echoed out in the hall. “Programs to help low-income families hit by the economic downturn in the city. Housing developments to provide people with adequate and affordable housing. Improve security at Arkham to make sure those like Jeremiah Valeska never get free.”

Valeska escaping to again terrorize Gotham sent chills down Jim’s spine. He’d never forget what the man put his daughter, Barbara Lee through. “Were it not for Batman arriving when he did,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “I would have lost my daughter to Valeska. I owe him for that. And for his help in finding the ones who killed Dick and Raya’s folks.”

“You have arrested the men responsible then?” Bruce kept his face carefully, neutrally blank. “They’re in jail?”

“Yes.” Jim nodded. “Dent is confident they will get the maximum sentence.”

“It won’t lessen their grief but it will bring them some peace knowing the men have been caught.”

“Lee suggested the same thing.”

“She’s a smart woman.”

 _And entirely too good for me_ , Jim added as more laughter came from the hall. He glanced towards the entryway, hoping Dick and Raya would join them.

“What are your plans for them?” He asked as their excited chattering and footsteps got louder. “Staying here was only to be a temporary solution while I tried to find their family.”

Which neither he or Harvey had any luck with. Alphonse Grayson seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet. _Or was killed before John and Mary_. Something Jim wouldn’t be able to prove without the help of the circus troop. _And they aren’t likely to talk any better now that Zucco has been arrested._

“Dick and Raya are going to remain here as my wards.”

Jim blinked. “Your wards? But I thought...”

“I had my attorneys file an amendment to the paperwork,” Bruce explained. “It names me as their legal guardian. Alfred will assume the role should anything happen to me.”

“Their uncle...”

“Is dead,” Bruce said flatly. “Dick said he died a year ago in a trapeze accident.” Jim wondered if it was an accident or a silent warning. “They do have an elderly aunt living here in Gotham but she’s not capable of raising them.”

“She agreed to give you custody?”

 _In exchange for what_? Jim wondered.

“Judy Lloyd is a resident of the Gotham Home for the Elderly.” Bruce crossed his legs. “She’s lived there since retiring from the circus thirty years ago.”

“Making her ill-equipped to raise children as young as Dick and Raya.”

“Yes.”

Jim didn’t know to think. He hadn’t expected to find himself revisiting the Wayne murders when he pulled up outside that alley. No more than he anticipated working with a costumed hero to bring those killers to justice. He also hadn’t imagined the son from that first case deciding to become the legal guardian of the children orphaned in the second.

Some might call the events coincidence.

Jim Gordon finally believed it was a Christmas Miracle.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, welcome, and Happy Holidays! I started this piece a year ago but shelved it because I had no idea where to go with it at the time. I decided to finally finish it this year as I was a bit bummed we didn’t get little Dickie in Gotham. So, this is my imagining of it and of the murder of the Graysons.
> 
> Small note: Raya is an original character from my Batman stories. I gave her a Gotham origin that is different from her other one since Mary Lloyd (Mary Grayson) had family in the circus and we were never told if they had kids. 
> 
> Waylon Jones is Killer Croc and Eric Needham is the future Black Spider. 
> 
> If you liked this piece, please kudo it and comment. Take care, all! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 🥰


End file.
